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COPYRIGHT D1£F0SIT. 



poems 



Rosa Nett Crandatl 



1907 

JAMESTOWN PUBLISHING CO. 

JAMESTOWN, N.Y. 



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tJi»«IA«Y«f CONGRESS 
Two Copios Received 

SEP 6 \90r 

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CLASS >< ''xXCmNo. 

COPY B. 



Copyrighted 

ROSA NEIL CRANDALL 

1907 






PREFACE 

The author of this volume, known in childhood 
as Rosa Neil, is a daughter of Augustus and Urana 
Neil; and was born at Ashville Chautauqua County- 
New York in 1865 

She has lived the most of her life since the age 
of sixteen in the state of Ohio; but is at the present 
time a resident of Chautauqua County, having 
reecntlybought a home on the East side of the lake. 



^^ 



Oh words, how dimly ye reflect 
The light from whence ye came; 

Ye are hut glowing sparks that fly 
From feelings living flame. 



c§<= 



Fair Chautauqua 

Chautauqua, Chautauqua, dear friend of my youth, 
Chautauqua, I love thee, indeed and in truth; 
I love thee, I love thee, in sunshine and storm. 
The heart for thee ever beats faithful and warm. 

We picnicked in Summer along thy fair shore; 
Green branches above and blue waters before; 
How glad were the echoes by child voices made, 
While happy young lovers in fond couples strayed. 

Thou hast listened to many a low whispered word, 
By none but the loved one and thee ever heard ; 
Thou hast witnessed full many a passionate vow; 
When broken — when kept — dost thou ne'er 
wonder now? 

With gay shouts of pleasure we bent to the oar, 
Till faces were sunburned and hands blistered 

sore. 
We sped o'er the bright waves, we thought not of 

rest. 
We gathered sweet blossoms that slept on thy 

breast. 
Didst miss thorn Chautauqua? Did sighing 

winds mourn 
Tho bab('S from thy bosom so ruthlessly torn 



Enchanted we lingered for hour after hour; 
Naught broke the charmed spell but the 

dinner calPs power, 
And strange tho' to tell, yet the call sometimes 

vain 
Must needs be repeated again and again. 

Beside thee we wandered thro' all the bright day, 
So careless, so thoughtless of life's changing way. 
How many we loved then we'll greet here no more, 
They tread now in glory. Eternity's shore. 

When fierce winds of Winter the hills whistled 

round 
And fisherman's huts scattered o'er thee were found 
Tho snowdrifted, frozen, we deemed thee not 

drear. 
But made the whole region resound with good 

cheer. 

Thou art grand, oh Chautauqua, when clouds 

sweep the sky, 
And kissing red lightning, white foam dashes 

high, 
Thou art fair — oh how fair, when the sun lights 

the west. 
And the waves wrapped in splendor sink sweet- 
ly to rest; 
To murmer of all that is lovely and blest 
Ah, this is the time that I love thee the best. 



Then hail, dear Chautauqua! Tho' great be thy 

fame, 
And changing thy scenes, thou art ever the same. 
Then hail, fair Chautauqua; in letters of flame 
Adown future ages be written thy name. 
Oh sweet as the music of waves on thy shore 
Is the song that the heart sings for thee evermore. 



Our Little Ones 

Oh, be gentle with the children, 
Keep them happy all the day; 
Many trials and temptations. 
They must meet on lifers rough way. 

May we teach and guide them wisely. 
Guard their feet from every snare; 

Knowing that these souls immortal, 
God has trusted to our care. 



Pond Lillies 

Frail as a new-bom infant, 

Fresh from the depths they rise; 
Up toward Ught and freedom, 

Up toward the sunny skies. 

Bathed in the summer sunshine, 
GUstening in gold and white; 

Pure and delicate lillies, 
Fairies dainty and bright. 

Swept by the summer tempest. 

Frail, yet dauntless and brave ,\ 

Dashed with foam from the white caps, 
Gaily they dance on the wave. 

Give us thy message, oh lillies, 
And may we read it aright; 

This is the beautiful lesson, 

Ever to reach for the light. 

This is the wonderful message, 

Freighted w^ith wisdom great; 

Meet with the same calm spirit, 
A kind or a frowning fate. 

Fearbssly ride on the billow, 

Through cold adversity's gale; 

Rooted in truth eternal 

Naught shall thy peace assail. 



Thanks for the beautiful message, 
Fairies dainty and bright; 

Thanks, oh frail water lillies, 
Gleaming in gold and white. 



Nature^ s Frolic. 

There's a rollicking freedom abroad o n the breeze; 
Old Nature makes merry, the great locust trees 
Are shaking with laug;hter, expectancy thrills 
The heart of all things o^er the valley and hills. 

They wait for the music and lights, see, they come; 
Hear the deep rolling tones of the heavy bass 

drum. 
Such a flashing of pearls, such a gleaming of 

lights, 
Such music, such dancing, a night of all 

nights. 

All things together in rythm and rhyme, 
The wild woods are singing in tune and in 

time; 
The weeds and the blossoms, the grasses and grain 
All nodding and swaying take up the refrain. 
My spirit floats out to swing in the trees 
With the rolUcking spirit abroad on the breeze. 



Next morning, two buttercups out in the clover 
Were nestled together while talking it over. 
^The music'^ said one, ^^oh wasn't it grand? 
I nodded and swayed, I scarcely could stand/' 

^Said the other, ^^I was so thoroughly wet 
'I declare my leaves are dripping yet. 
And what a fine electric display 
We shall not forget it in many a day, 
The whole wide world was a blaze of light. 
And the people say that it stormed last night.'' 



The Ills of Life 

Fret not over ills that can be cured; 
Arouse thy self and cure them. 
Fret not over ills that cannot be cured; 
What's the use, be brave, endure them. 



10 



Something New. 

How eagar and restless the little hands 

For something new to do. 
T hey were tired of fishing, of keeping house 

And of all the games they knew. 

When the brother espied behind the barn, 

A clump of unsightly weeds; 
Crisp were the brown and sun-dried stalks, 

And ripe the crisp brown seeds. 

^^Oh, see!^' he cried, ^Ve can play it is corn, 

Fm the horse to draw it awa}^. 
Then we'll husk it all, and give the stalks 

To our cow in the place of hay.'' 

No sooner said than the fun began. 

They stripped off the ripened seed; 

And fed a most remarkable cow 
This most remarkable feed. 

^^And now," said the lass,^Ve'll play it is spring 

Our cow must to pasture go. 
We will be men and work in the field, 

To day our corn we'll sow." 

So back and forth across the yard 

Sped the small feet bare and browned; 
Until the seed of the yellow dock 

Lay thick upon the ground. 



^Took, grandma is coming/' Awsiy they fly 
Thro' the gate and down the road; 

And think no more of the morning's play, 
Or the field of corn they sowed. 

Long years passed by and the little maid 
A woman now in her prime, 

Came back to visit her childhood's home 
And to dream of the olden time. 

She feasted her eyes on the race, the dam. 
The stream with its waters clear, 

The garden, the meadow, the woods, the fields; 
Each spot to memory dear. 

^'But father how did the yellow dock 
Ever gain such a standing here?" 

'^I have tried/' he said, ^^to keep it down 
But it springs up anew each year." 

And then like a flash to the woman's mind 
Came the scene of that autumn morn, 

When two little happy barefoot rogues 
Were sowing their field of corn. 

Thus children sometimes of larger growth, 
While seeking fresh joys to gain. 

Are sowing seed that can only bring 
A harvest of grief and pain. 



Then girls and boys when you long for change- 

For something new — be sure 
That your joys yield not a crop of weeds, 

That your pleasures sweet, are pure. 



Safe 

To Mrs. Smith on the death of her little son Parker. 

Saved from the world's hard battles, 
Saved from its bitter pain, 
Saved from its fierce temptations^ 
Saved from sin's blighting stain. 
Saved, blessed darling. 
Safe on the Heavenly shore. 
Spared the dangerous journey, 
Safe — safe forevermore. 



13 



Flowers for the Soldiers 

Flowers for the soldier — bring garlands — so red, 
Bright as the blood that his heart freely shed — 
Shed for his country, her grand life to save, 
Swelling the power of the great crimson wave. 



Flowers for the soldier — flowers white and pure, 
Emblem of peace our Union secure; 
Over the heroes who battled for right. 
Scatter the blossoms so pure and so bright. 



Flowers for the soldier's green mossy bed, 
Flowers, the fair tint of the skies overhead ; 
Blue for the patriot daring and true. 
Flowers for the soldier — bring red, white and blue. 



Thus for their service our gratitude show, 
Paying the tribute of love that we owe. 
Thus giving honor where honor is due, 
Pledging our faith to the Red, White and Blue. 



14 



Birds of Song 

Wonderful music fills the air, 
Melody, melody rich and rare. 
Restless spirit, be still and hear, 
Snowy pinions are sweeping near, 
Flitting white wings fills the air — 
Wonderful melody everywhere. 

Sweeter tones than to earth belong 
Float from the mystical birds of song. 
Songs too tender, too deep for words. 
Hover closer, beauteous birds. 
Teach me to sing thy songs I pray; 
Shyly they circle, far, far away. 

Only one, showing less of fear. 
Softly fluttering near — so near — 
Nestles against my heart and sings 
Lifts my soul upon broad white wings. 
Could I have made that song my own 
Ere the wonderful bird had flown. 

Thrills my heart with glad refrain; 
But to sing it, I strive in vain. 
Sweet are thy songs, O beauteous birds. 
Songs of the soul — too deep for words. 
Hover around me, O white winged throng. 
Sing to me, mystical birds of song. 

16 



A Better Choice 

John built him a mansion so grand and high, 
Its gilded dome met the azure sky; 
With beautiful porches and pillars white 
And carven statues to left and right. 
From a terraced lawn rose the lofty frame, 
A structure whose majesty well became 
John's station in life. 

His fashionable wife 
Approved this marvel of costly stone; 
They dwell, the two, in this prison lone. 
With servants to hasten to every call; 
But a gloom, a shadow hangs over all 
Alas for John — poor John. 

He had craved a position of wealth and power; 
Had struggled and hustled hour by hour; 
Had worked all day and schemed all night; 
And wrought out his schemes by the morning light; 
With scarcely a moment to eat or sleep, 
With never a thought how best to keep 
His youthful strength; 

Until at length, 
Though courted and flattered on every hand, 
He finds with millions at his command. 
And servents to haste at his call and beck, 
The wonderful home of the soul, a v/reck. 
Alas for Johja — poor John. 

16 



Jim married and lived on the homestead farm^ 
Worked hard where the beauties of nature charm; 
He trained his muscles to honest toil^ 
Breathed the fresh forest air as he tilled the soil, 
Drank pure living water and bathed in the stream, 
While the years flowed on like a happy dream; 
A peaceful life. 

Jims affectionate wife 
Keeps the way of the home so pure and sweet; 
That a haven of refuge, a sure retreat. 
He finds when the busy day is done; 
A half dozen children with innocent fun 

Give pleasure to Jim — dear Jim. 

He takes long walks thro^ the country wide 

With Mary, his chosen one, by his side; 

Finds joy in labor, in life and love; 

Thro' nature learns of his God above. 

While the souFs abode, grows strong and fair — 

A beautiful spirit dwelleth there. 

When the wild wind blows. 

And the home fire glows, 

He finds long hours to read and write. 

Long hours for study, and the night 

Brings father and children heart to heart. 

Ah, Jim, thou hast chosen the better part 

True life and its joys, dear Jim 

17 



Two Little Girls 

Two little girls are swinging 
Up in the tree top high; 

Two little voices singing, 
^^Rockabye, baby, bye/' 

Wild as the woods around them, 
Free as the birds of the air, 

Not a thought of danger 
Not a single care. 

Nature's joyous children, 

Slowly to and fro, 
Sway with the slender tree top; 

Softly the breezes blow, 

Kissing the glowing faces; 

Tossing the sunlit curls; 
Hark! 'tis a father calling, 

^'Down from there, quick, you girls." 

Two little girls are standing, 

Arms extended wide, 
'Teeter — teeter — totter," 

Up and down they ride. 

On a board well balanced 

Top of the high rail fence. 

Now, calls a frightened mother, 

'^Girls, you will break your necks." 

18 



Two little girls in the hay barn, 
Running the highest beam; 

Two little girls on an old log, 

Crossing the swollen stream. 

Two little ro^^a^s are missing, 
Gone from their haunts away; 
Search each nook and corner 
Where they loved to play. 

Deep in the forest shadows 

Where spring blossoms blow; 

Under the giant chestnut, 

Down where the berries grow. 

But you'll never find them, 

AH your efforts vain; 
Nor would we recall them 

The path to try again. 

Oh, blessed, blessed childhood, 

When life seemed pure and true; 

Sweet, loving, trusting childhood 
For evermore, adieu. 



19. 



Post Mortem. 

A soul that had recently passed away, 
Returned where his worn out body lay; 
To the beautiful home with its softened light, 
He came on a wild November night 

And crape hung black on the door. 



Low sounds of passionate weeping came 
From the room where lay his poor old frame , 
Shrouded and sheeted/^ Oh can it be 
These signs of grief are for me-for me?'' 
And the crape swung black on the door. 

She sobbed, she moaned, the stricken wife, 
Who had nagged that sensitive soul through life; 
He longed to clasp her in his arms; 
Had he dreamed she eared, what radiant 

charms 
Would life have held, but all is o'er; 
Earth's pains and joys are for him no more, 
For crape hangs black on the door. 

And Elenor, with her stately ways. 

Who had kissed him but once since her 

baby days. 
Whom he had never known to weep till now. 
Rained kisses warm upon cheek and brow; 
While crape hung black on the door. 

20 



Did they mourn him as husband, father and 

friend, 
Or because he could earn no more money to 

spend? 
Away with the thought, that could not be, 
For there was his life insurance you see. 
He had paid his dollars year by year 
To provide for this wife and daughter dear. 
When crape should hang on the door. 

Oh, pitifully small is the love we show 

For our nearest and dearest. How can they 

know 
The heart throbs true if the soul is stung 
Day in and out by a peevish tongue. 
Until there is crape on the door. 

The morrow came and the friends he knew 
Dropped in by twos and by threes to view 
The vacant house; as they came and went 

He could fancy it bore a card. For Rent. 

Smith came with the rest to drop a tear, 
They had not spoken for over a year; 
'^Oh John, ^twas my fault,^' he whispered low, 
And the soul of John knew that this was so; 
With outstretched hand, and with heart aglow. 
Those words would have found him a week ago, 
But now there is crape on the door. 



Of flowers they brought the fairest and best, 
The lillies of peace nestled close to his breast; 
And roses, sweet roses, were everywhere, 
Their incense of love filled all the air, 

But crape hung black on the door. 

Hark, the minister's voice, ^'Not many we find 
So gentle and loving, so patient and kind/' 
No one to reproach, no word of complaint; 
He had lived a man, they made him a saint. 
When crape hung black on the door. 

The tenderness lavished on that cold clay 
Would have cheered his heart for many a day ; 
Would have given him courage to fight for his life. 
And perhaps not so soon, oh daughter and 
wife, 
Would crape have hung on the door. 

And fain was the hungry soul to stay, 

But they reverently passed with their box 

of clay; 
Then the hearse through the cold November rain 
Moved on to the grave, and their cries 

were vain. 

Oh, friends, to the dear ones while they live, 
A bountiful store of affection give. 
For the time will come, and who can say 
How soon may come the woeful day, , 

And crape hang black oa your door. 

22 



Christmas Spirit 



Hail! O beautiful Being, 

Angel of peace and of light; 

Welcome, sweet Spirit of Christmas 
Into our homes tonight. 

Stir the fires of affection, 

Brighten the gleams of mirth; 
Waves of loving and giving 

Sweep through all the earth. 

Reign, O beautiful being. 

More than one short day; 

Spirit, sweet Spirit of Christmas, 
We plead for a longer stay. 

May the fires of affection. 

The light of Christmas cheer. 

Glow from season to season. 

Throughout the glad New Year. 



r3 



Why ? 

Did you ever waken at midnight 
And hear, in the pause of the strife, 

The groaning of milUons and miihons 
Who are fighting the battle of hfe? 

Oh, the prayers that ascend unto Heaven, 
The tears that the anguished let fall, 

The suffering hid by the darkness, 

E^en the heart of mankind might appall. 

But the wounds are hidden, though bleeding, 
As the}^ rise again to the fray, 

And battle, oh bravely they battle 

Throughout the broad light of day. 

It is true some are dead, some are dying, 
But our lessons of warfare vve con; 

And the fallen ones soon are forgotten. 
As the battle goes merrily on. 

With what haste we succor our brother 

When Indians famine is sore. 
When flood or fire has been sweeping 
Our own American shore. 

Then why are we hurting each other? 

And why this suffering dire? 
More far reaching, terrible even. 

Than havoc of famine or fire. 



24 



Oh, teach me the lesson of kindness, 
The gospel of love divine; 

That no brother or sister suffer 

Through word or deed of mine. 

There are foes within we may conquer, 
Our belligerent powers to employ. 

Then why do we pierce one another. 
The blessing of night to destroy? 

Ah, many hearts sigh for an answer 

As they start in the pause of the strife. 

At the cries from the wounded in spirit. 
In this terrrible battle of life. 



The Serpent 

Dark and limy, through the ages 
Runs a glittering serpent's trail; 

Drenched with blood and tears of anguish, 
Ringing with the mournful wail 

Of lost souls, forever crying, 
' 'Woe — woe — woe.'' 

Woe, alas! to every creature 

Blighted with his poisonous breath; 

Eyes like flame from deep perdition. 
Spreading jaws, — the jaws of death. 

At our very doors he's lying. 
Woe — woe — woe. 



25 



Hydra-headed monster, darting 
Many thousand fieiy tongues; 

Dragging down the brightest, bravest; 
Seeking out the fair, the young; 

Ever new allurements trying. 
Woe — woe — woe. 

Charms he with the Devils cunning, 
See the crowds that gather near. 

Fawn upon the hideous reptile. 

Laughing maidens know no fear. 

Hear they not sad voices sighing 
Woe — woe — w^oe? 

But the One who heeds the crying 

Of lost man, has heard the wail. 

Marked each drop of blood and anguish 
On the glittaring Serpent's trail; 

Seen each wretched drunkard dying. 
Woe — woe — woe. 

And the sword of wrath uplifted 
Gleams above the fearful gloom; 

Fall it must. Oh, mighty serpent. 

You are hastening to your doom. 

Hear the voice of judgment crying, 
Woe — woe — woe. 



2§ 



At Rest 

When the toil of life is over, 

And the soul has moved away, 

Let no costly flowers be wasted, 
On its empty house of clay. 

Rather let their beauty gladden 

Some heart burdened still with care; 

To some weary troubled spirit, 

Let them hope and courage bear. 

When the toil of life is over. 

Let no tears for me be ghed. 

Rather weep ye for the living; 
Sweetly sleep the silent dead. 

If of words of loving kindness 

You have not unfailing store. 

Save them, save them, I entreat you. 

Beating hearts will need them more. 

May they help some friend or stranger 
To temptation's voice a prey; 

When life's toil for me is over , 
And the soul has passed away. 



27 



Veiled 

If we couid know the motive power, 

The soul of word and deed; 
And if companions of the hour 

Each other's thoughts could read, 

From some we trust 

With strong disgust 
We'd shrink, to see — revealed 

Neath gracious smiles — 

Old Satan wiles 
The tyrant sceptre wield, 

And flattery's tongue would speak in vain 
^Talse, false,'' would echoes ring; 
Foul slander vainly seek to pain. 
And poisoned arrows fling. 

Each cruel dart 

Would pierce the heart 
Of him who drew the bow. 

Each wicked lie 

Would quickly die. 
And bring the coward low. 

True friends would nearer, dearer be, 
And soul with soul commune. 
No discord in life's melody. 

Naught mar its perfect tune. 
A thoughtless deed 
We would not heed. 



28 



The purpose pure in view. 

A careless word 

Would pass unheard 
If sure the heart were true. 

Alas! we oft misunderstand 

The ones we hold most dear; 
Unbidden rise on either hand 

Rude guests, dark doubt and fear. 

An idle jest 

May stir the breast 
To swift and sharp reply. 

A little pride. 

The wound to hide, 
A darkly flashing eye. 

And thus is born a bitter strife, 

Two souls in shadow cast; 
Perhaps thro^ all a future life 

To mourn the friendship past. 

The words we speak 

Their mission seek 
A power for good or ill; 

They lightly fall 

Beyond recall, 
Nor heed our later will. 

Could we a brother spirit view 
Cares, trials, hopes and aim, 

The heart might throb with feelings new 
And bless where now we blame. 



29 



Then go your way 
From day to day, 

Heed not each gossip's tale; 
For all we know 
Of friend or foe 

Are glimpses thro' the veil. 



The Closet Skeleton 

Escaped at last from its hiding place, 

It meets and defies you face to face; 

It stalks abroad and rattles its bones, 

While the long-lost soul of it sobs and groans^ 

And people gaze as it passes by; 

They love the stare of its empty eye, 
Its arching ribs, its hideous grin, 

A welcome sight is this ghastly thing. 

They listen to catch the piteous moans. 

And oh how they love the rattling bones. 

They nod and whisper with a smile, 
'^Just what I told you all the while.'' 

As swoops the vulture to its prize 
With eager haste the gossip flies; 

*^My joy, my very life," she cries, 

With her raptured gaze on the sightless eyes, 

30 



And her lips, where once were Hps, close pressed ; 

For the last one out she loves the best. 
''Come fly with me o'er the paving stones 

That all my friends may rattle your bones." 

Grieve not, my friend, that the truth is known, 
No more need you start at the stifled moan, 

Or the muffled sound of the rattling bones; 

For fast and far o'er the pavement stones 

Goes the hateful thing you have hid so long, 
To gladden the gossiping idle throng. 

Let them have it all to themselves alone; 
Let them pick it over, bone by bone. 

Beautiful things may the future bring, 
Forget the ghastly grinning thing. 

With its lanky limb and its senseless stare; 
Make room in your heart for the pure, the fair. 



31 



Set Free 

Is a burden of bitterness crushing the heart? 

God, send Thine angels, I pray; 
New life unto faith, hope and love to impart, 

And roll the stone away; 

Sad spirit bowed with a load of grief, 
For a loved one called away; 

God^s ministering angels can bring relief, 
Can roll the weight away. 

Hast thou a sorrow that never dies. 
That's eating thy life away? 

Hast thou remorse? Arise — arise. 
Whatever the burden — pray. 

Thy God will hear thee, set thee free. 

And sin no more hold sway — 
Oh, welcome the angels that come to thee 

To roll the stone away. 



32 



A Mothers Prayer 

Our Father who art in Heaven, 

Amid the cares of the day; 
The worrying, troubhng trifles, 

For patience, sweet patience I pray. 

For patience with baby^s troubles, 
Tho' small they seem to me. 
Do not our greater trials 

Still smaller seem to Thee? 

And yet Thou art ever ready 
To bend Thy listening ear 
And every tale of sorrow 

With loving compassion to hear. 

For patience with all the racket, 

The shouts and the noisy play; 

Full well we know such music. 
Will all too soon pass away. 

With the house so still and lonely. 

We shall sigh for the fun and the noise; 
May we feel today these blessings. 

And rejoice with the girls and boys. 

For patience with children's failings, 

How can they perfect be? 
They only follow our footsteps. 

The fruit will be as the tree. 



Oh, prune with care the parent, 

Each evil branch lay low; 
May the roots of love strike deeper, 

That the fruit may fairer grow. 

Our Father who art in Heaven, 

As I journey day by day. 
To bear life's heavy burdens. 

For patience, sweet patience, I pray. 



One Less— One More 

On the death of Ernest Rich. 

One darling less on earth today, 
One more in Heaven's fold; 

One less to tread life's rugged way, 
One more in the streets of gold. 

One empty cage — the bird hath flown; 

One happy home band riven; 
There's one tie less that binds to earth. 

One more that draws toward heaven. 



Best Wishes 

The soul that ever toys with flowers, 
Where fairy zephyrs blow; 

That never braves affliction's storm, 
Its own worth cannot know. 

The soul that is never called to weep, 
The heart that knows no pain, 

Will shrivel up mid earth's delights, 
With aspirations vain. 

With out the rain, the sunshine 

Would earth's beauty soon destroy; 

I wish you not, my dear young friend, 
A life's unchanging joy. 

But just as many smiles and tears 
As Heaven sees you need; 

To rouse the heart's sweet sympathies. 
To noble action lead. 



With just enough, nor any more- 
Of pain and pleasure both. 

To wake the best that in you lies, 
Perfect the spirit growth. 



85- 



Haunted Valley 

In a lone and rugged valley^ 

Where the wild birds hover low, 

Sing and swing among the sumacs, 

Nest where thick the berries grow; 

Where surrounding banks stretch skyward, 
Till the tall trees ranged on high, 

With their flowing locks of emerald, 
Brush the white clouds floating by; 

Mother Nature folds a cottage 
Close against a sheltering hill, 

Singing songs of love and wisdom 
To the music of the rill. 

Blue jays, humming birds and robins, 
All the butterflies and bees, 

Love the vine above the doorway; 
Love the shrubs and apple trees. 

All is peace and all is beauty. 

But a chill strikes through the heart; 
As from everj^ rock and willow, 

Every door, pale spectres start. 

And on roadway, stream and pasture. 
Up the slopes where mosses grow, 

Up the steeps so bare and rocky 
Fitful shadows come and go. 

33' 



Fleeting shades of airy castles 

Built of fancies, frail and fair. 

Castles ruined now and haunted, 
Creeping shadows every where. 

Silence reigns throughout the valley, 
Noiseless turns the busy mill; 

Teams climb up the winding roadway 
Without hoof beats, all is still. 

There's a tiny toddler playing 

Round the gristmiirs open door. 

There are merry children wading, 
Picking berries from the shore; 

Where the bushes dip the tail-race 

With their load so ripe and black. 

Flocks of duck before them scurry 

With no sound of splash or quack. 

Phantoms moving mid the shadows. 
Running to the barn to swing, 

Playing up and down the race, path, 
Bringing water from the spring. 

Do you see them, ruined castles. 
Creeping shadows, phantoms fair 

Roaming ever through the valley? 

They are there — they all are there. 

Nay — nay tis a lovely valley. 

Where the rarest mosses grow. 

All is peace and all is beaut}^, 

Where the wild birds hover low. 



37 



Echoes 

Below humanity's surface, 

Where dwelleth each human soul, 

Strong waves of deeper feeling 
Like the surges of ocean roll. 

We strive with our ceaseless shatter 

To drown the terrible roar 
Of billows forever beating 

Warm hearts against the shore. 

But a cry goes forth, and I shudder, 
As the echo is borne to me; 

For I know some heart is breaking 

On the rocks of that storm swept sea. 

Below humanity's surface, 

Where dwelleth the soul, there lies 
A land of beautiful flowers, 

Of birds, and of sunlit skies. 

Where the hearts of men find healing; 

And the splash of its fountains clear 
Is music, wonderful music. 

To those who choose to hear. 

And rare and sweet float the echoes. 
And wild from the sea they roll; 

Forever ringing and ringing, 

From the unseen world of the soul. 



3^ 



Beauty and Health 

Fair Beauty and Health, twin sisters, 
Once journeyed through the land. 

A wee little maid with sunny curls 
They led by the dimpled hand. 

Oh, their days were bright and joyous, 
Their path with flowers gay; 

For many years, these faithful friends 
Were with her by night and day. 

She loved the dear companions, 
Who made her life so blest; 

But though she ne^er confessed the truth, 
It was Beauty she loved the best. 

It was any thing to please her. 

To keep her always near; 
But sturdy Health was slighted oft\ 

Neglected more each year. 

Till, though she loved the maiden 
With a heart that was warm and true, 

She slowly, sadly went away. 
Sweet Beauty followed too. 

'^Stay, stay,'' cried the startled maiden, 
^^Dear Beauty, do not go. 

For Health has gone, I have only you. 
And Beauty, I love you so.'' 

39 



A shade of grief — of pity 

On the face of Beauty fell; 

^^I pine for my sister Health/' she said, 
^^You drove her away, farewell/' 

A weary, sad-eyed woman 

Bewails her lonely lot, 
And spends her days in an endless search 

For Beauty. She finds her not. 

Gaurd the door 

It flew from a mother's lips. 
It pierced a loving heart, 
A harsh rebuke for a child's mistake; 
The hot tears quickly start. 

But a sense of bitter shame, 
In the mother's breast is stirred; 
For an acquaintance passing by. 
The unkind speech has heard. 

And did she then forget 
The friend that is always near? 
That never slumbers — ever waits 
Our lightest tone to hear? 

And is it naught , that she 
Should grieve the One above? 
And, is a passing friend's regard 

Prized more than her children's love? 



40 



Crossing 

We know our journey leads us to a river dark 

and cold, 
Yet we'er ever looking forward with eager heart, 

and bold; 
Until time swiftly passing, brings our feet upon 

the brink, 
And then we gaze affrighted, and in terror back 

would shrink. 



We know these forms must moulder soon, 

within the silent tomb; 
But we drive away the thought, and we shudder 

at the gloom. 
We know not when the call will come; in age, or 

prime, or youth; 
But we know that sometime, somewhere, we must 

face the dreaded truth. 

Then live at peace with God and man, till called 

from earth away; 
And not alone you'll cross the stream amid the 

shadows gray. 
Blest they who through the waters deep, 

triumphantly can sing — 
'^0 Grave, where is thy victory? Death where 

is thy sting?'' 



At 



Lifers Heroes 

All honor to the noble souls, 
Who battled for the right. 

All honor to the heroes brave. 
Who died to win the fight. 

Strew flowers on their lowly beds, 
And speak the kindly word; 

But remember there are heroes, 
Who bore no gun — no sword. 

They never wore a uniform. 
Nor heard the din of war; 

Unseen, they fought — and conquered; 
Unseen is every scar. 

The crowd ne'er sang their praises. 
But God's angels, looking down, 

Raised the glad song of rejoicing. 
And they won a starry crown. 

And still the battle wages hot 
Wherever man is found; 

Noble souls are struggling, fainting. 
On life's cruel battle ground. 

As we leave each soldier's resting place 
With blossoms bright today. 

Let us keep in mind the soldiers 
That we meet along the way. 



A pleasant smile, a kindly word, 
A cup of water bright, 

Has cheered men on to victory, 
Has helped to win the fight. 



The Word Unsaid 

It leaped in the brain but its life had fled 
Ere it found expression — the word unsaid. 
Why did you not send it with joy on its way 
To smile in the hearts of those boys at play; 
Or to chase the tears from that child away? 

They are countless millions, these words unsaid. 
These impulses kind but too quickly fled. 
These beautiful thoughts that a moment live, 
x-Vre whispers from Heaven ; but utterance give. 
They are angels of mercy — forever they live. 

Send them forth, send them forth on their mission 

of love. 
Each gentle and pure as a snowy dove. 
Crush them not in your struggle for pleasure 

or bread. 
Give them form ere their life hath forever fled. 
Oh, the joy that is missed through the words 

unsaid. 



43 



Weaning 

With a cheek of velvet 

To my shoulder pressed; 
Sitting in the moonlight, 

Soothing babe to rest. 

Rocking in the moonlight, 
Sitting up in bed. 

Bear the milk untasted 

Away with careful tread. 

Little tear drops falling 
On my neck like rain, 

Baby's heart most broken, 
Sobbing all in vain. 

Now his eyes are closing, 
Hush my very heart; 

Move him gently — gently. 
See that frightened start? 



Tuck the covers softly 

Round the dimpled feet; 

Poor, wee, troubled darling 
Sighing in his sleep. 



4^ 



Thus begins our trials 
Ere we learn to talk; 

Weaned at every turning, 

Down lifers crooked walk. 

We are weaned from mother; 

Soon when older grown, 
Cares and duties call us, 

Wean us from our home. 

Then within some other, 
By small hands caressed, 

With a cheek of velvet 

To the shoulder pressed. 

But we cannot keep it, 

Tis not nature's way; 

Tho' we miss the burden 
Soon 'twill grow away. 

Evening shadows falling. 
Make the lesson clear; 

Weaned from every treasure 
Human hearts hold dear. 



Till eternal glory — 

All our struggles past — 
Breaks upon our our vision — 

Weaned from earth at last. 



45 



Innocence 

Sweet soul — like a blossom adrift — 
The plaything of wild wind and wave, 
Thou art tossed on a maelstrom of sin, 
What power can thy purity save.? 

Must we see those mild, loving eyes. 
With the flames of passion alight? 
Shall that wee, dimpled hand e'er be raised 
A brother in anger to smite? 

Shall the lips that we so love to kiss 
Be foul with tobacco and drink. 
And profanity roll from the tongue 
Till listeners shiver and shrink? 

Great God, who this beautiful soul, 
To our care its innocence gave. 
Let this little life still be Thine own; 
Thy Power — that oaly, can save. 



4$ 



From The Depths 

On The Destruction of the Battle Ship ^'Maine" 

You have heard the cry from Havana. 

The cry from that blood-stained wave, 
And the sobs of widows and orphans 

Who weep o 'er that wreck-strewn grave. 

The lost were your countrymen — brothers; 

Does each passionate heart throb long 
To spill the lifeblood of the Nation, 

To avenge, if need be, their wrong? 

You gladly would leave home and kindred. 

To war with a foreign foe ; 
Even welcome the wounds and the hardships 

To return such a cowardly blow. 

We love this broad land of freedom. 

Spread out^neath the red and white bars; 
An army would march to defend it 

From each state in the blue field of stars. 

But another cry, (who has not heard it?) 
Comes up from a dark, surging wave, 

Strewn with wrecks of homes and affections, 
For the dead and the living a grave. 

47 



Wild mirth, groans and blasphemy mingle 
As they sink, men, once true and brave. 

A prayer too — some noble soul seeking, 
His life and his honor to save. 



Hear the moans of that heart broken mother 

As a son is lured from her side; 
And deaf all her entreaties, 

Goes down in the rush of the tide. 

See the tears of innocent children, 

Hear the sobs of widows — or, worse- 



Those who cling to a husband and father 
Held a slave, made a brute by the curse 

Of the enemy clasped in our bosom, 

With -money and men at command; 

Counting his victims by thousands, 
And boasting his power in the land. 

Sadder far than the loss of the good ship 
And the gallant crew of the Maine, 

Is the wreck of eternity's life boats, 
Is the army of crippled and slain. 

And these are our sons and our brothers. 
Who fell by the drink Demon's hand. 

Oh, how long shall this monster be pampered 
On the virtue and the wealth of our land? 



48 



Awake, sans — daughters of Freedom, 

What need of a longer delay? 
Arise — prepare for the battle, 

Your country calls you — obey. 

Ah, the enemy laughs; for protection 

He claims, neath the red and white bars; 

Fight, fight till he's banished forever. 

From each state in the blue field of stars. 



Peace 

Despair not, gentle sister, 

Tho' faint with the heat of the day; 
Tho' scorched and withered the roses. 

Whose thorns pierce thy feet on the way. 

Still bravely struggle, my sister. 

The pain at thy heart shall cease; 

Thou shalt hear in thy deepest anguish 
The voice of the Master — ^Teace.'' 

Find rest in this peace, sweet sister. 

Thou art worn with the toil of the day; 

The roses dred in life's morning, 

The thorns pierce fehy feet on the way. 

49 



The Nation^ s Prayer 

Sung to the tune of ''Nearer my God to Thee.'^ which was a 
favorite^ hymn of our martyred Pesident, William McKinley. 

The Nation mourns^ oh God, her fallen Chief, 
But sweet the echoes ring through all her grief; 

From North to sunny South 

Ringing from sea to sea 
Nearer my God to Thee — nearer to Thee.'' 



a 



Let pride of power be brought low in the dust; 
Cleanse Thou the Nation's heart from sinful lust, 

The drunkard's curse remove 

And let us rise to be 
^Nearer my God to Thee — nearer to Thee." 

May Y^e no more, Oh God, profane Thy day; 
But learn Thy holy Word, Thy will obey. 

We boast of freedom's land, 

May we indeed be free; 
And ^^Near — my God to Thee — nearer to Thee" 

Throughout the century past, on our fair land. 
Blessings have freely poured, all from Thy hand. 
Our dying Chieftian's hymn. 
Then let our watchword be; 
^^Nearer my God to Th^ — nearer to Thee.^' 



50 




I 



To a Captive Lion 

Watching, watching thro' the grating — 
Pacing, pacing to and fro — 

O my brother, all your longing. 
All your deep unrest, I know. 

Placed before a heartless public. 

Made to feel man's curious gaze, 

Life is one long cry for freedom; 

Tis for this, my own heart prays. 

Oh my captive brother, gladly 
Would I swing the iron door. 

Fly with thee to deepest jungle 
Where no human trod before. 

There to dwell? Oh no, my brother. 
There to die, alone — alone. 

Where no eye could read my sorrow. 
And no loving heart make moan. 



n 



flows; 
wine 



December 

December comes thro' drifting snows; 
Down thxe crystal path, where the streamlet 
Past the moaning pines, where the North 

blows ; 
Past naked trees; when the sunlight glows 
A fleeting smile youth's hopes bespeaks. 
Some gentle maiden is't he seeks 
To kiss the chill from his icy cheeks? 
Strange lover, bleak 

December. 

And must his search, alas, be vain? 
His voice grows sharper in its pain, 
Youth's fleeting smile is gone again. 
Forsaken, wild, unhappy swain 
With neither youth nor beauty blest, 
Oh why keep up the fruitless quest? 
Hope must be strong within thy breast 
True-hearted, brave 

December. 



At last a wonderous change we trace ; 

His grief to radiant joy gives place. 

See now what glory lights his face. 

She comes, she comes, with sweetest grace; 

The Spirit of the Christmastide, 

Behold she comes, December's bride^ _ 

Companion spirit-gentle guide 

Most happy, blest 

December. 



5^ 



The wedding chime rings on the air, 
He leads her to the alter fair. 
Her name is Peace, her smile so rare 
Can banish every thought of care. 
Her tender glance his heart can cheer, 
He seems no longer cold and drear, 
His merry laughter, now I hear; 
Light-hearted, gay 

December. 



Ring Christmas bells, the echoes wake; 
The joyous feast, let all partake. 
We love thee for thy dear one's sake, 
We hail thee, glad 

Decen>ber. 



^tf» 



:* 



Lovers Grief 

Why art thou sorrowful Love, why weep 
When all men worship at th}^ feet? 
There's none to lowly to dream of thee, 
No king too lofty to bow the knee — 
Why dost thou grieve when so truly blest? 
Of all good gifts thou art surely best. 

^^I mourn alas, for the world's dark shame, 
For crimes committed in my name. 
Behold fierce Passion stalks the land, 
With Riot and Murder goes hand in hand ; 
He makes excuse for a course so wild, 
By claiming to be my own fair child. 

^^I mourn, alas, that sinful lust 
Can win and betray a pure girFs trust; 
Forsaken, ruined, poor helpless thing 
She writhes ^neath desertion's cruel sting. 
I weep for the scorn in her eyes' dark gleam , 
There is no love, tis a foolish dream. 

^'I weep that Greed should my name defile. 
While seeking to win fair fortune^s smile; 
He builds him a home where I cannot reign, 
And finds it a nest of strife and pain. 
Few love me though many make loud the claim; 
Alas, alas for the world's dark shame." 

54 



Peace on Earth 

We have read the beautiful story 

Of the shepherds and angels of light; 

But where shall the harassed souls of men 
Find peace upon earth tonight? 

In Russia^ suffering Russia, 

Where a maddened peasant throng 

Is striving against the ruling powers, 
To right oppression's wrong? 

Where tyrants cower and tremble 

As the people's arm grows strong? 

Do you think the Czar or the howling mob 
Heed the herald angels' song? 

In England, that grand old country, 
Where starving humans cry 

From the great and rich metropHs 

For work, lest their loved ones die? 

Eight hundred thousand v/aiting 

For food or for death's release; 

Think you this starving multitude 

In their garrets and cellars find peace? 



^5 



And what of fair Columbia, 

The honored land of our birth, 

Does she prize the gracious gift from Heaven 
Of peace and good will upon earth? 

We crowd and we trample each other, 
God^s gift we have thrown away; 

What fools- what base ingratitude; 
But — ^tis dollars or death today. 

Is there peace in the home of the drunkard? 
Sweet peace in the prison cell, 
Where a man with a youthful haggard face 
Is waiting to hear death's knell? 



He remembers nothing, they tell him 

He murdered his child and his wife. 

We sold him the drink that made him a brute 
And now make him forfeit his life. 



If the angels that sang in Judea 

To herald our Savior and King, 

Are singing to night that wonderful song; 
Methinks they miist weep as they sing. 

Christmas 1895 



Dreaming and Doing 

The poet sang of patience; 

So sweet seemed the song to me, 
I vowed that never the hasty word 

Should my guarded hps set free. 

But alas for human fraility, 

Alas for a vexing day; p^ 

Ere the shadows fell, the impatient word 

Had on mischief sped away. 

But I knew a gentle woman, 

Who was patient all day long; 
Whose smile w^as bright with a heavenly light, 

Whose life was one sweet song. 

The queen of my early childhood 
With her crown of waving hair. 

Lived out the dreams of a poet soul 
In a cadence of beauty rare. 

Oh sweet, angelic spirit, 

We would humbly learn of you; 
We love to dream our beautiful dreams, 

You lived to make them true. 



I saw a wonderful picture 

Called home, so fair did it seem 

That afar thro' all the country rang 
The fame of the artist's dream. 

But I know a humble farmer 

Who chose him a modest bride, 

And fashioned a home — a happy home, 
And what so e'er betide, 

As years pass on and trials 
Come to them as to us all, 

And life's small disappointments 
Like the leaves of Autumn fall; 

No harsh word ever grieves her. 
The loved one by his side; 

As tenderly he cares for her, 
As for his girlish bride. 

Tho' the baby cry till midnight 
And breakfast too is late, 

Tho' Johnnie has lost the hammer 
And Charlie has broken the gate. 

His ways are always gentle. 
His words are always kind. 

Small things indeed, that serve to show 
The man's most noble mind. 



58 



Admire the artistes genius, 

And the poet's praises sing; 

But bow before the son of toil 
And hail this man — a king. 

It is easy to plan but harder, 

We find it alas to do. 
We love to dream our beautiful dreams, 

He lives to make them true. 



A Love Song 

All that is loving and gentle ; 
All that's unselfish and kind ; 
All that's forgiving and tender; 
All that is pure and refined. 

Mild as an evening zephyr, 
Sweet as the blossoms of Spring, 
One to give cheer and to comfort, 
Joy e'en her presense doth bring. 

One to be loved, to be honored. 
Fortune's sun beaming on high; 
Still to be loved, to be trusted. 
Shadows tho^ darken the sky. 

Name pray, this fair, gentle creature, 
Has she a fault or a flaw? 
Hush! I will tell you a secret, 
She is my mother-in-law. 



The Child 

A gracious child whose lovely face 

Still beamed with the light of Heaven, 

Whose lips still wore the happy smile 
An anger s kiss had given. 

And the parents hearts by the dimpled hands 
Were pressed so close together, 

They called them one, nor ever dreamed 
That aught their heart could sever. 

She twined bright flowers in the mother s hair, 
But the mother could not keep her; 

With a laugh she sprang to her father's arms. 
And the light in his eye grew deeper. 

A few bright years, and the happy face 

Had lost its innocent gladness; 
And in the depths of those wonderful eyes 

Lay a look of reproachful sadness. 

And stiller and weaker day by day 
She clung to her mother sighing. 

And the mother wept through the long dark nights 
For her beautiful child that was dying. 



00 



At last with bruised and bleeding heart 
She lay with pain all ashiver; 

The mother clasped her in her arms 
Each sensitive nerve aquiver. 

She pressed her lips to the sunny curls, 
Till ceased the pitiful moaning; 

And then that she with her child might die 
She prayed with sobs and groaning. 

And when the father sought his child; 

The mother sad and tearful, 
Said/^Oh, my husband, our child is dead/^ 

His face grew pale and fearful. 

She beckoned him into the shaded room 
And stood by, silently weeping; 

^^Oh v/ake her, wake her,^' he hoarsely cried, 
^^I know she is only sleeping/' 

He kissed the cold and clammy face 
Once full of life and gladness. 

He smoothed her curls, he chaffed her hands, 
He raised her up in his madness. 

Too late- too late — your loving words 

Can stir lier pulses never; 
Yours be the cokl and lifok\ss form. 

But the soul has gone fonniM*. 

.01 



heavenly child, sweet be thy sleep 

Among the saintly dead. 
What a sad, sad thing, is the form of Love 

When the beautiful soul has fled. 



The Heart of the Storm 

There's a beckoning hand in the ligh ten ing's, flash, 
A voice from the thundering skies ; 

That speaks unto earth-bound spirit. ^'Come; 
Arise, oh soul, arise.'' 

^^Mount up on the wings of the rising wind. 

Leave sordid care for an hour. ' ' 
And nestled close to the heart of the storm 

I drink of its life and power. 

I thrill with each bound of its mighty pulse. 
Till the soul, rejoiced and strong, 

With an onward sweep is returned to earth, 
And breaks into glad new song. 



Appreciation 

The bird that doth raise 

His glad voice in praise 
Seeks not the applause of the throng, 

The notes are as sweet 

In the wild forest deep; 
He must sing for the joy of the song. 

But an answering trill 

Brings a rapturous thrill 

What joyousness fills every tone, 
For his song hath been heard 
By some other wild bird; 

It is not for himself alone. 

So the heart sings its song 

Far away from the throng. 

Yet blessed the answering voice; 
When another hath heard 
Some soul hath been stirred 

How the singer doth rise and rejoice. 



63 



i|voex 



A Better Choice i6 

At Rest 27 

A Mothers Prayer 33 

A Love Song 59 

Appreciation 63 

Birds of Song 15 

Best Wishes w ... 35 

Beauty and Health 39 

Christmas Spirit 23 

Crossing 41 

December . 52 

Dreaming and Doing 57 

Echoes 38 

Fair Chautauqua 5 

Flowers for the Soldiers 14 

From the Depths 47 

Guard the Door. ........... 40 

Haunted Valley 36 

Innocence 46 

Life's Heroes 42 

Love's Grief 54 

Natures Frolic ^ . . . > . 9 



Oar little Ones .............. 7 

One Less — One more 34 

Pond Lillies .... 8 

Post Mortem 20 

Peace ....... v ............ 49 

Peace on Earth ^- • 55 

Something NeW il 

Safe 13 

Set Free 32 

The Ills of Life 10 

Two Little Girls 18 

The Serpent 20 

The Closet Skeleton 35 

The Word LTnsaid 43 

The Nation s Prayer 50 

To a Captive Lion 51 

The Child. 60 

The Heart of the Storm. ... 62 

Veiled... 28 

Why 24 

Weaning ............ s ....> 44 



